Parental Guidance
by Zeff N Company
Summary: Nowhere in the "guide" was it stated that these boys would grow up, check their pants, and realize they liked having those pants stay down. For other boys. A Cid-oyaji short for Howling-WereWolf, rated for Cleon and other yaoi bits.


_As requested by Howling-WereWolf. (Sorry it took me so long, kid; hope you like it.)_

* * *

He was admittedly the least suitable candidate for parenthood when he started out, but he humored the thought that - at the very least - he had managed to raise the boys with some semblance of functionality. That is, if you could call constant brooding, a like for shiny blades and the tendency to clam up functional.

But he had done his best, and followed the "guide": the unofficial yet worldly-known laws stated and passed by word of mouth, on how fathers raised their lads. That "guide" had raised him to be a pilot, and that "guide" had turned a sulking little kid into a committee leader - maybe even a friggin' _world_ leader.

Nowhere in that "guide" was there a clause or hint - not even a damned _fine print_ - for the one cursed thing that was not supposed to happen. According to the "guide", boys grew up, suddenly checked their pants and realized they were men, partook in mating season, brought forth more boys into the world, and then the cycle repeated.

Nowhere in the "guide" was it stated that these boys would grow up, check their pants, and realize they liked having those pants stay down. For other boys.

Thus, nothing explained it when he suddenly woke up one morning, mucked about as he always did...and then found the boy he raised by the "guide" doing exactly that impossible latter case. No amount of denial could save his sanity, and he was quite certain that the sleeping demon Diablos himself was traumatically awakened by the manner in which a certain spiky-headed blond fighter hollered vulgarities with that boy's name inserted in between.

In the famous words of someone he didn't care to know: "That wasn't supposed to happen". Cid wasn't quite sure if he ever fully forgave Squall-effin'-Leon Leonhart for those liberally explicit visuals, either. Ungrateful little..._sod_.

Yet, a mistake was a mistake. Chase a moving fire with a bucket, and the quick little shit just keeps one step ahead of you, burning to cinders anything and everything that gets in the way.

That pondered upon, it took a full month of watching the pair of Garden warriors exchange not-all-that-innocent subtleties, before Cid gave up trying to fix what would stay absolutely sundered. They wanted to jump on each other like bunnies? _Let them_.

In exchange, he'd just have to make sure he would _never_ let history repeat itself. Not on _his_ watch.

* * *

As the morning rolled by, its newly-set routine left one man satisfied, two men concerned about possible drug influence, three girls worried for collective sanity, two pets mercifully clueless, and two boys utterly and helplessly confused.

Just barely past the dawn, four figures were by the table as they took - or attempted to take - their morning beverages in silence. From his place upon the living room settee, Cid watched the arrangement, taking in the result and glad for how effective it was proving.

One of them was squatting on top of the table, a hand upon the wooden surface as he adopted a gargoyle-esque pose. Before, Cid had never failed to correct his behavior - "feet and food don't effin' go together" - with a well-placed whack that sent him cartwheeling to the floor tiles below. Yet, ever since the fateful decision, the old mentor figure did not just let him stay there - he was actively _encouraging_ him to stay there.

Cid's reasoning was simple - if he could see the kid's hands and feet, then none of those limbs would cop at anything undesirable without public notice. Preventive measure number one in session.

Sitting opposite in a chair - as would a civilized individual - the other boy of the group meekly sipped at the beverage that did not cool fast enough, thus preventing him from leaving the very tense atmosphere that hung in the room under Cid's watchful gaze. Hovering overhead, the pink gelatinous being that was this boy's companion happily gnawed on a cinnamon stick. And right between both boys was the resident fuzzy blue alien, making his way through the entire packet of sticks.

A barrier in the middle, and a watcher overhead. Preventive measures number two and three in session.

As time ticked by upon the clock, the other residents of the house started to wake up and make their own way down. Aerith and Tifa came first, the flower girl quick to show her chagrin toward the one squatting on her nice, clean - or used to be - table, as much toward Cid's intention behind the allowed act. The young bartender attempted some friendly conversation - only to earn a few nervous smiles from the more amiable of the pair - before taking her leave; opening time for _Seventh Heaven_ and all that.

Yuffie came next, already rattling like a cranky engine with too little oil. Everyone here would recall a time when she would be the last one up, but ever since a certain couple decided to "go semi-public", she had made it a personal mission to be there and witness any exchanges they might or might not have. What followed was a wrestling session for what was left of the cinnamon; at least it helped lift the mood a little.

And that was when _they_ showed up.

Cloud was the first in, with Leon a step behind. Before either had so much as a chance for morning greetings, Cid released a very loud, very deliberate cough. He might as well have fired a starting pistol into the air - both boys flew from the table at once and shot out the door; Morph took a full second to realize he had been left behind before squeaking in alarm and hastening to follow.

Effective removal of bad influence and temptation. Preventive measure number four in session.

Thus concluded yet another day in the persistent "make them grow up straight as rulers" plan. It was a pretty damned good plan, if he ever saw one - no sign of a mishap yet.

On their part, if either warrior caught on at all, they never showed it beyond a careful glance Cid's way, before leaving it be and settling into the vacated spots for their own morning rituals - coffee, whatever was available as a light meal, keeping an overly hopeful Yuffie at bay while they ate, and at last giving her something to keep her occupied.

Cid himself chose to leave as they followed through on the last bit. There were some things he could tolerate, but tolerance only went _that_ far. Also, every minute his two charges were out of sight was another window of opportunity to end up just like their predecessors.

Like burning Hellfire over Shiva's blue balls was he about to let _that_ happen.

* * *

He wasn't surprised when Aerith confronted him about his methods, but he allowed feelings of betrayal that she was so very much disapproving. No one could really blame him for being blunt...not in his point of view, anyhow.

"I don't teach you how to grow your bloody flowers, you don't teach me how to grow my damned kids."

Indignant, Aerith refused to leave go of the matter - not with it being a lot more than he was willing to look at. "... Cid, those poor boys are _terrified_."

"They seem fine to me."

"That's because they care about you too much to let you know."

"Nice way to think of them..."

"Will you _please_ listen?" and before the older man had a chance to cut in, she continued to push her point. "They've been on the edge for _weeks_, and are too scared to even have eye contact with each other - never mind _speak_ to each other - in case you blow a gasket, which you _do_. Kids don't need that much stress to deal with - it's not healthy."

"If they have a problem," Cid broke in, "then they know damn well what to freakin' do about it. I didn't waste a year teaching them _jack_, I'll have you know."

"At least let them communicate again!"

"Stupid things happen when you decide to talk," was his grumbled retort, attention back to the seventh toothpick he had snapped in the past half hour. "...stupid, _fruity_ things."

The last comment proved him exactly right, for that was when Aerith fell silent. That silence proved uncomfortable, as she knew the point he was trying to make.

"... Cid..."

"Nothing against them," he snapped tersely. "Nothing against the bloody pair of 'em. It's _their_ life and _none_ of my damned business. They can go at it like _monkeys_, and it don't mean nothing to me."

It was a moment too late before he looked up, and found a pair of blue orbs tinted gray staring back at him.

There in the doorway, Leon's face was void of expression as he quietly continued to stare at Cid, as though searching for an answer. For the first time in weeks, Cid stared right back, his own orbs burning - demanding to know something that he refused to clarify.

At last, they broke eye contact at the same time. The old mentor turned to discard yet another broken toothpick, as the scarred warrior slid pass and headed upstairs.

The whole exchange could not have taken more than ten seconds, but the atmosphere had changed drastically. What had once been tense and angry, was now flat...almost depressing.

"I don't give a damn," Cid muttered again, refusing to look at Aerith from where she remained unmoving. "Ain't my damned business who he decides to hump..."

Perhaps out of mercy for his dignity, Aerith gave him no reply.

* * *

As dinner rolled around, someone apparently decided that all of them should have their meal in the same house. At the same time.

The place was packed from wall to wall, as both the committee and their immediate acquaintances gathered together, sharing out hot rolls, chunky stew, fried potatoes and the like. Tifa had brought in some of her own brews as well, which were soon to be passed around from one to the other.

Cid had pointedly separated himself from both Aerith and Leon, not wishing for more talk while he got himself stoned. The whole day had been a drag, and he was too tired to bother with idle chit-chat. Morph had suddenly decided to sit on his head, though, and the only way to keep the thing from annoying him too much was the offering of yet another cinnamon stick.

Thus, he had been too occupied to notice that the two boys - the boys he had kept such vigilant watch over - were now in closer proximity than he had ever let them...that is, until he looked up. A pointed glare was sent their way at once, and the pink blob on his head warbled in confusion at the sudden rise in temperature.

One of the pair made to move at once, but his friend - squatted upon the tabletop yet again - shot out a hand to keep him in place. Defiant young fire blazed in that child's eyes as he matched Cid's glare with one of his own. Cid didn't realize he was growling as he read the silent, rebellious boy's very body language.

_...got a problem, eh?_

Someone cleared his throat beside him, and he barely acknowledged both the presence of one Cloud Strife, as much as the look in those blue-green eyes.

"Calm down, Cid," the younger blond uttered quietly, only to receive a bitter scoff.

"Oh, I'm _calm_, alright. I'm so calm, I could make a _monk_ look pissed..." in a moment, he turned his head away from the offending scene before him. "So you can just t-"

"Oy! Idiot!" At the sudden call, Cid turned once more to the defiant boy on the table's surface, just in time to watch him move his hand to grab the seated one by the back of his head.

It was right there and then, in a moment that seemed to freeze Hades' Underworld bottoms up, that the infamously incoherent one yanked his acclaimed best friend sharply into a standing position, and the two met in a crashing impact...lips to lips.

As much as the latter youth's eyes bugged out in shock, Cid suddenly saw nothing but flashes of bright red. If Cloud were shouting at him, he wasn't registering it - not when he was too busy thinking of how to kill something swiftly, quickly, and not all that cleanly...

That was when the instigator released his victim and leaped from the table, a loud barrage of cusses and oaths along the lines of _"I KILL YOU, YOU HYNE-DAMNED FILTHY LITTLE MOTHER'S-"_ as he shot out an open window and fled the home, premises and all.

Through the haze that was his own foggy mind, Cid still managed to register Aerith taking action: she was calling for Cloud to go after the escaping fugitive, all the while holding him back with everything she had. It was with that same level of awareness that he felt another hand - larger and stronger - clap firmly on his shoulder before effectively hauling him outside, into the night air.

And then an icy wet jolt snapped him right out of it.

* * *

Leon waited the minute to pass, his hand over the faucet handle as he continued to keep Cid's head in place under the rushing flow of water. At last, deciding that he had been sufficiently soaked, he brought that flow to a complete stop before releasing the older man.

"Are you finished?"

In response to the soft query, Cid spat out an accidental mouthful of liquid before wiping his mouth off with the front of his shirt. He was certain he had a retort...somewhere, yet for some reason he just couldn't find it anymore. Thus did they stand in silence, Leon watching the older man with a level of understanding. And it was the same younger man that broke the silence at last.

"You're disappointed in me."

"I give a f-"

"You disapprove of this path I have chosen to walk," he was continuing, not once raising his voice. "But that does not mean you can take it out on the ones that replaced me."

"Not taking out nothing on nobody-"

"I love him, Cid. Give me another chance to do it again, and I'll still love him. Nothing can change that."

At last, Cid stopped trying.

Leon watched the older man quietly retreat to the wall, his frame sinking as palms pressed against the dusty surface of bricks held together by cement - bricks laid by the younger man's own hands.

"... I sure as hell didn't raise you to be gay."

"Cid-"

"Shut the hell up and listen to me," he snapped at once. Still, it took a little longer for him to clarify his point:

"I took a chance raising you kids - I didn't want to be parent, but I had to be. I didn't want to be your bloody Dad, but guess what? I _was_. And what did I do about it? I went by the rules - I fed you, I taught you all I knew, I got somebody else to teach you what I didn't know... I made you who you are. Just where did I go wrong?"

This time, he was not interrupted, and he at last slid his hands from the wall as he steadied himself.

"The way I taught you, you were supposed to have a proper future, with a bloody _woman_. And bloody _kids_. You were supposed to have a _family_. _Descendants_. That's the way we were pissed out as humans - that's what a proper future should be. A happy future. But then I screwed up, and _look at you_! _YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!_"

_You're supposed to have the future I never had._

There was no answer to be heard. At last, too tired to bother anymore, Cid slid down into a crouch, a hand supporting his head that suddenly felt too heavy.

"I screwed up...bloody hell, I screwed up..."

There was a scratching of boots against the pavement, and Leon was crouching beside him, a hand on his shoulder in silent reassurance.

"Cid... I _am_ happy."

Cid didn't look up, even as he felt the younger man's eyes on the top of his head, and heard him continue to talk.

"You did a fine job with us - with Aerith, with Yuffie, with the boys...with me. You taught us all to live with what we had, but to fight for what we believed in. You taught us to decide for ourselves, and be happy with our decisions. _I_ chose to be with Cloud, and I'll never regret it. It was my decision, and... I'm happy about it."

"...those boys are _brothers_. They can't-"

"They won't," Leon affirmed. "I can tell he did that just to prove a point: you're pushing them too hard. They had a problem..."

"...and they knew damn well what to freakin' do about it," Cid finished, at last cracking a tired grin. "..._damn_, that bloody kid's good..."

In the time that passed between them, they were soon from crouching to sitting upon the pavement itself, backs to the wall as they looked up at the sky. They had done this before - both could remember - a long time ago, when they were still new to Traverse Town. When they had been guardian and ward...the closest thing to parent and child, since that was all they had left.

"... Hey," Cid finally called lightly. "You sure I didn't mess up with you?"

"...not on most part." At an indignant snort, his eyes danced with amusement before sobering once more. "No one is perfect, but... all that I am, I am because you were there for me. If you didn't make me who I am, I would never have come this far."

"...so did I mess up or not?"

"Not my place to say, but I suppose... I'm just glad it was you."

Cid fell silent again, a finger reaching up to idly scratch between his molars. Feeling the last of the tension evaporate into nothing, Leon took his cue to rise, to take his leave.

"...no sex anywhere near the computer, the garage, or the coffee machine," Cid suddenly blurted out. "You get me, brat?"

The brunet paused, staring down with unguarded, vulnerable surprise at the other. It took a moment before he responded to the generous gesture of acceptance with one of his own. Smiling, he nodded, and then offered his hand.

"Whatever you say, sir."

Cid was grinning as he took the hand and allowed the other to pull him up. The boy had gotten a lot stronger over the years, he suddenly noticed. Stronger, taller, stable...

... Happy? Yeah, _right_...

Still...maybe he hadn't messed up _too_ much, after all.

* * *

The next morning, Jim sat next to him by the table, his expression not unlike a deer in headlights as he attempted to keep a low profile. Blissfully unaware, Morph tried to weasel another treat from the package that Stitch was hogging. All the while, Cid calmly chewed on a piece of toast he had liberally slathered beforehand.

There was a soft clatter, as Pride easily scaled the chair to settle in his usual squat upon the table. Cid ignored him, still eating with undisturbed momentum. Jim's eyes widened slightly, his stance wary as he looked from his fellow to his mentor, any other form of expression effectively hidden behind his mug.

The dark-skinned boy shot a careful glance at the older man, his eyes narrowed defensively. Still did Cid not regard him in any way. At last, with a soft grunt, the boy reached for the tray.

A single loud _"THWACK!"_ echoed across the home, followed by a distinct crashing and a loud, unintelligible string of foreign cusses. The remaining boy's jaw fell open as he gaped at the sight, his pink gelatinous pet warbling in alarm. Cid finally allowed a smug smirk to creep across his face as Pride regained himself from his ungraceful position on the floor.

"I _told_ you, punk," Cid finally spoke, his tone firm. "Feet and food don't effin' go together."

The expression both boys shared in that moment was priceless, and the awkwardness in the air evident enough to suffocate a few bugs. That was when the boy on the floor huffed and slumped forward, rubbing the back of his head where he had connected with the floor tiles.

One of them snorted - none of them knew who - and in a moment all three started to laugh. They laughed like they never had in weeks, each so infectious that none of them were able to stop without starting up again. And by the time they were done, they were breathless.

A hand was extended, and Pride looked up at his mentor. Grinning, he took hold and allowed the elder to haul him to his feet. It took a moment longer for him to pull up a chair and sit properly, and another moment longer for light-hearted banter to carry into the air around them.

From the stairway, Leon and Cloud stood watching, taking in a sight that had been missed for too long.

And just as Cid lightly punched his grinning apprentice on the shoulder, the first boy he had raised into a man...smiled.

_

* * *

_

(Cid, boys, Morph... I sure as ever missed writing about you lot. Great to see you in my text again.)


End file.
